


A Crime Worse than Murder

by Kivea



Series: The Daily Life of South Park Kids [1]
Category: South Park
Genre: And Cartman so, Childhood, Childhood Stories, Comedy, Humor, JUST LET THEM BE HAPPY, There's swearing I guess?, and do dumb shit, kids being kids, silliness, that's all I ask for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 13:03:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13636839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kivea/pseuds/Kivea
Summary: Mr Garrison broke the most sacrilege of rules.He betrayed their trust. Their friendship. Their hopes and dreams and loves, all in one, single action.It was a crime worse than murder.“I can’t believe it,” Stan hissed out as he glared at the teacher. “I can’t believe he’d do this.”





	A Crime Worse than Murder

**Author's Note:**

> I follow dailyau.tumblr.com and they had a collection of like school themed prompts and I have now collected them all and am going to make a series with them. I'm three stories down but this was the first.

It was a crime worse than murder. 

That thought was unanimous amongst the entire class. They sat in their seats, some with their faces downcast towards their desks as they mourned the loss of their numbered-faced friend, some staring at the circular patch on the wall where it had sat for years, and some glaring  _daggers_ at Mr Garrison who sat at his desk tapping his foot and occasionally looking at his watch as if to silently  _gloat_. 

“I can’t believe it,” Stan hissed out as he glared at the teacher. “I can’t believe he’d  _do_ this.” 

“I can,” Cartman spat out. “Slimy little cock-nosed-fag-!” 

“ _Dude_ , you can’t talk during a test.” 

Cartman turned his glare to his redheaded friend. “Uh, we’re having a  _conversation_  here, Kahl. It’s rude to just  _but_ _t-_ _in_.” 

“Boys!” 

The trio snapped to attention, turning to the front of the class where Mr Garrison hadn’t bothered looking up from his magazine. 

“There’ll be no talking during the quiz, now get back to work.” 

Cartman grumbled something under his breath, but Kyle seemed quite pleased at the fact he’d been  _right_. Stan honestly couldn’t bring himself to care. He was too busy grieving. He needed time to mourn, and this toxic environment honestly just wasn’t letting him do that. 

He turned to see Clyde on the other side of him, looking up at the wall with fat, wet tears in his eyes. He understood. He got it. More than his  _so called_ super-best-friend, apparently. 

The silence lasted maybe five minutes before Cartman leant over to his desk again. “I’m just  _saying_ , are you surprised, like, seriously? This is so  _fucking typical_.” 

“I know,” he nodded his head again in agreement. “I don’t know why I’m surprised. I didn’t think even Mr Garrison would be this heartless.” 

There was the sound of something flying through the air and smacking Cartman in the side of the head before the brunette gave a loud shout, spinning his reddening face to the Jewish boy in front of him once again. “Ey! What the  _fuck_ was that?!” 

“Shut the  _fuck up_ , Cartman!” 

“You shut the fuck up you filthy Jew!” 

Kyle spun round fully in his seat. “Fatass, I swear to fuck, I will-?!” 

“Boys!” 

The pair stopped, snapping to the front once again. This time Mr Garrison was looking directly at them with a powerful glare on his wrinkling face, firmness in his jaw as he prepared to dish out the punishment. 

As if what he had done wasn’t punishment  _enough_. 

“Detention, to the four of you!” 

Stan’s brow furrowed. “The-what?” 

“You too Stanley, and you, Kenny. The four of you. Detention.” 

Kenny’s muffled voice came through from behind Stan full of justifiable anger as he bit out  _what the fuck did I do?_

“Well you just swore at me, so I guess that, now all of you calm the fuck down and get on with your quiz!” 

But it was too late. The silence had been broken. The silence had been broken, and Stan wanted  _answers_ , goddamn it! 

He raised his hand, speaking before the teacher called on him. “Mr Garrison, where’s the clock gone?” 

“The clock?” 

“Yeah, the clock on the wall, what did you do with it?” 

No one was doing their quiz anymore. All eyes were on the man at the front of the class, a murmured ‘yeah’ rippling through the crowd as the glaringly obvious problem was brought to the forefront of the discussion. 

“I took it down,” Mr Garrison declared while rolling his eyes. “You don’t need to know what time it is, the bell will go when it’s time for class to finish.” 

“But it’s not fair! You have your watch!” 

“Yes, because I need to know what time it is.” 

“Why do you need to know what time it is but we don’t?!” 

The ‘yeah’ that ran through the room was louder this time. 

“Because,  _Stanley_ , I’m the teacher, which means I need to know how long of the class I have left so I know how much work to give you. You just need to do what I say which, might I add, you’re awful at doing.” 

“That is double standards!” Cartman shouted out. “That is double standards, and it is  _cruel_ , and  _wrong_ , and completely unfair!” 

“Kyle, can you control your faggy little friends please?” 

The redhead looked up with alarm. “What?” 

“You heard me, control them.” 

He looked over to his friends, both who turned their looks of anger to him for a split second before Stan spoke up against it. 

“Kyle’s on our side, Mr Garrison!” Stan declared.

“We demand to have our clock back!” Cartman announced, slamming his fist on the desk. “We want it, and we want it now!” 

The chorus of agreement reached full volume, causing the teacher at the front to take a long, deep breath to still himself and keep his cool. 

He failed. 

“You wanna know why I took your dumb little clock down?! Because  _some asshole_ changed the time on it to be five minutes early, so yesterday,  _before the bell went_ , what did you all do?!” 

There was complete silence. 

“That’s right, all of you, as  _soon as that clock_ hit twelve thirty, all left the room. The clock does  _not_ dictate when you get to leave this classroom, I do! And I say that you leave when the bell goes, and not a moment before!” 

“We still have a right to know what time it is!” 

“You wanna know the time, Eric? It’s twelve twenty. You have ten minutes to finish your quiz and I know for a  _fact_ you haven’t finished it yet. Have any of your finished yet?!” 

Wendy’s hand rose high in the air. “I’ve finished, Mr Garrison!” 

“That’s great, Wendy, but no one likes a kiss-ass.” 

“No!” Cartman declared, pulling himself onto his chair. “I refuse! I am taking a stand, right here, right now, and I will  _not_ finish my quiz until you have returned our clock to it’s rightful place! Now who’s  _with me_?!” 

Tests were forgotten as pencils dropped to the floor. Stan was second on his feet to Cartman, letting out a battle cry as he stood tall, hearing Kenny not far behind him. Kyle pulled himself up after a few more of the kids did, and looking the other way he saw Clyde already with a fist in the air on his chair as he stood in defiance. 

They weren’t going down  _that_ easy. 

“Sit down right now, all of you!” 

“Never!” 

“Well then I guess you’re all going to be standing there till after the bell rings because I am not putting that clock back on the wall!” 

“You can take our freedom, but you will  _never take our spirit_!” 

Another loud chorus of agreement echoed through the room before the class started chanting. The teacher pinched his nose and squeezed his eyes shut as the children began to chant in unison, demanding the return of their sacred clock, that the wrongs be righted and swift justice be brought. 

“That’s it, detention,  _all of you_!” 

“No surrender!” 

_“No surrender!”_

The door to the classroom opened, revealing a blue-clad boy who stepped in the room with an expression that was somewhere between tired and mildly annoyed. As soon as he stepped in, eyes flickering from the students standing on their chairs, to the teacher behind his desk, he began to back out. 

“Craig!” Mr Garrison snapped. “What have I told you about skipping class?!” 

A frown settled on his face. “I wasn’t. I was at the guidance counsellor’s office.” 

“A likely story, I’m sure. You spend an awful lot of time  _there_ instead of in class doing quizzes like the rest of these students!” 

Craig looked to the kids on their chairs, papers in front of them that were presumably these mythical ‘quizzes’ that no one seemed to be doing. “Yeah, no.” 

“You need to stop skipping class, Craig-!” 

“I wasn’t skipping!” 

“-And start doing work like the rest of us! Mr Rich and Handsome isn’t going to fall in my lap, and he’s not going to fall in your lap either.” 

“ _You_ sent me to guidance!” Craig argued. 

“You know, I don’t like your attitude, Craig.” 

The young Tucker boy did what he always did. He raised his middle finger. 

“That’s it, go to see Mr Mackey. Maybe he can sort you out.” 

“But you just-?!” 

“Don’t talk back to me, Craig!” 

With a loud huff the boy spun on his heel and disappeared. 

“As for the rest of you!” Mr Garrison started, planting his hands on his hips. “I expect all of you in detention this afternoon! I don’t care if you have plans after school, now you’re going to be taking your punishment like good boys and girls-and that  _includes you_ , Miss Student Council President! You are responsible for your fellow students, just like I am!” 

Before any of them had chance to argue a shrill ringing echoed through the room. In their rush to leave, half the chairs were knocked over, before kids started piling out the room to feed hungry bellies that begged for food. Mr Garrison’s voice was barely heard over the ruckus and gossiping of the room as he told them all they’d be retaking their quizzes during detention under the supervision of the school counsellor. 

By the time they’d all left he was somewhat thankful to find that, out of all of them, six of them had left finished quiz papers on his desk. He’d have to find something else for those ones to do during detention. 

* * *

“Now I understand that you’re all here for starting a protest in Mr Garrison’s office, mm’kay?” 

“Yes, Mr Mackey.” 

“And-well-protesting during class time is bad, mm’kay? It causes a disruption in the classroom, which is supposed to be a learning environment, so you shouldn’t start protests during class, mm’kay?” 

“Yes, Mr Mackey.” 

He moved to the table he’d taken as his desk at the front of the cafeteria, searching for the quizzes that Mr Garrison had provided for him. “Now Mr Garrison has been kind enough to agree to let you use this time to finish your quizzes and go over them for any mistakes-yes, Wendy?” 

The dark haired girl lowered her hand as she was called on, a scowl on her face as she addressed the counsellor. “Mr Mackey, some of us finished our quizzes, and I have student council duties I need to take care of.” 

“Wendy, nobody likes a kiss-ass, mm’kay?” 

There was a sniggering from one corner of the room that sounded suspiciously like Eric Cartman. 

“Mr Garrison has told me that you do have some homework to do, so for those of you who are finished with your quizzes, you can use detention for this. Detention is about self-reflection, mm’kay? It’s about self-reflection, and understanding what we did wrong, and how we can avoid doing it again in the future.” 

Wendy’s scowl didn’t drop, but she didn’t question the man further. 

As Mr Mackey called out the names of the students who’s papers he was holding they came to the front to retrieve their tests. There was some shuffling as six of the students sitting down got their homework out to work on after having finished their quizzes during class. 

The calm atmosphere that was beginning to be created was brought to an abrupt halt as the doors to the cafeteria flew open, revealing the face of one determined Mr Garrison holding a large circular object covered by a dark cloth. The class stopped as they watched him walk to the front and position himself on the table behind Mr Mackey. 

“Now,” Mr Garrison turned his attention to the class. “I thought about what you said, and I’ve decided to have a compromise. We’re going to try to do the test again except  _this time_ , I’ll provide you with a brand new clock, and if you like it I’ll hang it up in the classroom right whether the old one was, how about that?” 

There was a gentle murmuring which Cartman used to cover himself as he leant to his three friends with narrowed eyes and said: “I don’t trust it.” 

The three of them agreed. 

The dark cloth was stripped from the circular object, revealing a clock that must’ve been the size of Mr Mackey’s head. Mr Garrison shuffled into a comfortable position, the clock settled on his lap, with the seconds hand ticking away softly. 

“Now, I’m going to sit here while Mr Mackey oversees this detention, and we can all know exactly what time it is. Right down to the second. And when you’re finished doing your quiz or your homework or whatever it is you kids are doing, you can watch this clock. You can sit right where you are and count down the seconds till you get out of detention. How does that sound?” 

Nervous eyes looked at each other. Silence descended. 

“Don’t let me get in your way, Mr Mackey, just pretend I’m not here.” 

“Oh, uh…mm’kay,” the guidance counsellor cleared his throat and turned to the students. “Well…get started then, I guess.” 

It was torture. Every second. Quite literally, every second, was torture, because you could  _hear_ the seconds hand ticking away and it seemed to  _echo_ around the large, empty room that was their cafeteria. The only sounds that were louder than the clock was the occasional cough, sneeze, or twitch from the caffeinated blonde at the back. 

They lasted ten minutes. A lot longer than Mr Garrison thought they were going to last. They were building up a resilience to his teaching methods. 

“I can’t do it anymore!” came the high-pitched shriek from the back. “ _Jesus Christ_ , man! I feel like-GAH-I’m waiting for my death or something!” 

“Tweek,” Craig spoke from his position next to the blonde. “Calm down.” 

“I  _can’t_! Sweet  _Jesus_ they’re gonna  _kill me_!” 

The chullo-wearing boy turned to look across at their other friends, who in turn looked over to Stan’s group. 

Kyle sprung to his feet. 

“Mr Garrison you have to take it out!” he announced. “You can’t seriously expect us to concentrate like this!” 

“What was that, Kyle? I’m sorry, I thought you kids  _wanted_ to have a clock.” 

“Yeah, we wanted  _our_ clock, not a new clock!” Stan said. “Not a clock from-from-?!” 

“From  _hell_!” 

Mr Garrison stood firm. “I’m sorry, boys, but this is what you’ve asked for.” 

The super best friends exchanged a firm look before nodding at each other. Within seconds they had charged to the front of the room with a mighty battle cry, Kenny fast on their heels as Cartman stood on the table and pointed at the offending object at the front of the room. 

“We must  _destroy it_!” 

Mr Garrison practically handed the clock over as his class gathered round to smash it to pieces before he turned his attention to his nails, picking at them as the mini-riot happened right in front of him. Mr Mackey made a blubbering sound before he asked if it was really okay to let them just…go at it like that. 

“They’ll be fine, let them get it out their system,” Mr Garrison assured. “Besides, I think I’ve made my point.” 

Once the chaos cleared and the students were stepping back from the mess on the ground, the counsellor managed to regain some kind of order as he sent them all back to their desks and told them to finish their quizzes. The detention didn’t last much longer as Mr Garrison got bored and announced they could all leave once they’d handed their sheets back to Mr Mackey, and with a cheer the kids raced from the room before all separating off into their own groups. 

Stan let out a sigh of relief as they finally felt the cold, fresh air on their faces and the snow crunching beneath their feet. “Thank god for that. I never want to see another clock in my life.” 

“I don’t know what Mr Garrison was thinking, bringing that monstrosity into detention hall.” 

“You guys were totally asking for it.” 

“Whatever,  _Kahl_ , no one likes a kiss-ass.” 

“Yeah, Kyle, don’t be a kiss-ass.” 

The redhead threw his arms into the air in defeat. “Whatever. Let’s just go to Cartman’s and play some COD or something, I’m done with this place.” 

The trio turned down the street towards the Cartman household, bags secured on their backs and school quickly forgotten about. 

“Hey, wait a sec-where’s Kenny?” 

“Oh, you didn’t see? He totally got trampled when you guys were destroying that clock.” 

“Dude, sick!” 

“I know, right? It was pretty cool.” 

“I don’t think that’s what he meant, Cartman.” 

**Author's Note:**

> You know that feeling when you used to get to class and look over at the wall where the clock was but it wasn’t there anymore and when you asked the teacher would just be like ‘it’s ran out of batteries’ and it’d take an entire fucking week to replace? That would be like, the longest week of my life, every time. 


End file.
